Human
by mjoInir
Summary: Cassandra Nash met Frank Castle completely by accident, at a little diner in Hell's Kitchen. They see each other frequently over the course of a few months, until he drops off the grid. And when he pops back up, he's moved into the same apartment complex as her.
1. Chapter 1

T _his begins in Daredevil season 2, but will eventually continue into the Punisher. Will follow most of canon, but Frank deserves a little domestic bliss._

* * *

 **Chapter One. Black Coffee**

Cassandra Nash walked slowly behind the counter at the diner in Upper West Side Manhattan, right on the border of where Hell's Kitchen would begin. She looked clearly exhausted, her concealer barely doing any help to mask the bags under her eyes, with her dark blonde hair in a messy bun, several strands falling into her face.

She worked as a waitress to help cover the fees at Columbia, but she was in her last two years of the Robotics PhD program (she was young for a student who was almost done with her PhD, only being twenty-eight, and would be three years younger then when the average PhD student would be done). She had a Masters in Mechanical and Electrical Engineering, and she knew as soon as she was done, she was potentially looking at working for Tony Stark — she clearly had the smarts and the ambition. It was really only a matter of time. To add to it, her mother was a retired S.H.I.E.L.D agent (living comfortably in Orlando), and perhaps Cassandra had a bit of a pull in that area too.

Ace's Diner was quiet, especially during that time of night, but the diner had certainly grown on her, as she had been working there since she was twenty-four (which might be a reason she was still there, patiently waiting to be done with school to leave). Cassandra was alone, other then the one busboy, and the chef, and no one would come to relieve her until the morning shift began. She was relatively used to this — working nights to pay for her books and off-campus apartment. She also tutored younger students and helped manage the on campus library in her off time (which also helped her focus on her projects/homework).

The bell over the door rang, catching Cassandra's attention, her eyes flickering from her Robotics textbook to the patron who had walked in. He was tall, with a dark blue sweatshirt zipped all the way up, along with the hood, but she could see the baseball cap on underneath it. She found him slightly suspicious, but shrugged it off. Her mother had trained her from an early age, briefly wanting her daughter to follow in her footsteps, plus self-defense would never be a bad thing (especially in New York City).

Cassandra walked slowly towards the man who had entered, who took a booth in the back. She barely got a word out when he told her that all he was interested in was black coffee. And a lot of it. She complied, bringing back the coffee pot that had freshly brewed coffee as its contents. She poured it slowly, eyes flickering over him, trying to catch any of his features that it seemed he was hiding under the cap.

She returned to her textbook, pouring herself a cup of coffee. There was no was she was going to last the night without it. She was leaning over the counter, her back to the chef's window, and facing the entrance — the mysterious patron was down to her right, and she could see him watching her briefly through the corner of her eye. She paid him no-nevermind, reading through the chapter she was pretty sure she knew by heart at this point. But she has never earned anything less then a B+ during her time at Columbia, and she intended to keep it that way — always aiming for top marks.

The man cleared his throat and her honey colored eyes flickered over to him. He had his coffee cup on the edge of his table, and she can only guess that it was empty. She sauntered back over to him, and that was when she caught sight of the bruising around his left eye socket. Cassandra was only briefly caught off guard, and instead of reacting to it, she only offered a small smile.

She placed the coffee pot down onto the table after pouring him a cup, not even saying a word as she left it at his table. He smirked before she walked back to the counter, turning the page, taking a sip of her coffee (after adding both cream and sugar). She did not really notice what the man was doing, or that he is simply staring out the window, lost in his own head. Nor did she notice that the busboy had fallen asleep in the kitchen, while the chef watched Netflix on his laptop. Weeknights were usually always this dead, weekend nights were where it really depended; sometimes there was a bunch of drunk/hungover civilians coming in for late-night snacks and coffee, or they were as dead as weeknights. Either way, Cassandra went with the flow — even though she did prefer the nights she could study and get paid for it.

A cop car pulled up on the opposite side of the road, both officers needing a caffeine boost. Cassandra smiled as they entered, not even noticing as the mysterious man kept his head down, but with all his focus on the two officers. Both were general regulars during the night, but Cassandra barely remembered their names.

They were both female officers, which had Cassandra's respect the first time she met them. Ortiz was the older of the two, having two children and a husband in accounting, while Blake was newly married to a ballet dancer.

Cassandra was quick to pour them each a cup of coffee from the only remaining pot behind the counter. She did not falter, even if the authority would be intimidating to just about anyone. She supposed it was because she grew up with a mother who was in a similar boat that she reacted easily to the women, trading boring small talk to pass the time.

Ortiz and Blake were discussing the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, which had Cassandra's interest. Vigilante types had always fascinated her; she practically begged her mother to tell her anything and everything she knew about the Avengers. Opinions differ widely when it came to the issue of the Devil of Hell's Kitchen — you either thought he was a vigilante, borderline hero, or you thought he was a criminal. And while the thought of having someone currently roaming the streets, protecting civilians, puts Cassandra's mind at ease, even a little. Not many care too much about the "little guys" or your everyday New Yorker. She, however, does not disclose her opinion to either of the officers, walking the line between both opinions, a tactic she had learned from her mother.

They paid and left, each only having a cup, and she took both mugs back to the kitchen, looking slightly annoyed at D.J., the sleeping busboy. When she returned to the counter, she noticed that the man left, the coffee pot completely empty (she did not see him pour the remaining contents into a thermos), but there was a twenty on the counter beside his cup. Coffee was not nearly that expensive, so she had gotten a decent sized tip.

Cassandra returned the coffee pot to behind the counter, discarding the used cup into the sink, before returning to her textbook. Her cellphone buzzed in her apron, and she placed it on the counter, seeing a text message from her friend Eliza.

 _Study session tomorrow?_ it read. Eliza was on the path to a Chemical Engineering PhD, and even though the women would not be studying the same material, it was still nice to have company.

 _Bring pizza?_ Cassandra sent back.

Her phone buzzed moments later, _Of course!_

Cassandra smiled, beginning to filter through her social media. Just another brief distraction from the slow night, and there was nothing of particular interest.

By the time Vera came to relieve Cassandra, along with Nathan, she was just about to pass out. Her trip home was relatively short, either a very quick subway ride and a block to walk, or about a seven minute walk. She only took the subway if she was running late, or if she was particularly exhausted, like she was that day. Her apartment was tiny, her dining room and living room smashed together, the couch barely fitting into the space (she did not even own a dining table for this reason, instead eating at her coffee table). Her kitchen was small, but it was really all she needed, as she did not cook often. The bathroom was tiny, but it had the necessities, and that was really all Cassandra required. Her bedroom barely fit her full sized bed (it's smushed into the back, stretching to be touching both walls) and her dresser. It had a tiny closet however, which was nice enough for her.

Cassandra set the alarm on her phone for class and climbed into her bed, falling asleep moments after closing her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two. Lawyers**

Over the course of a few weeks, Cassandra saw the mysterious man a handful more times. Each time he only came in for coffee, in either the late hours of the night or the wee hours of the morning, never coming in if it was busy, and usually coming in bruised in one area or another. And each time, he caught her staring down at her textbook, or on rare occasions, a normal book.

The spring semester ended, Cassandra passing with flying colors, getting ever closer to her PhD. Like usual, she had signed up for summer courses, to try and keep herself ahead. It kept her routine relatively normal.

The man went to sit in his normal booth, and Cassandra already had the coffee pot in hand, walking toward him. After pouring him a cup, he stopped her from leaving.

"I'll take some eggs, too, please," he said, glancing up at her for the first time since he had first walked in. "Three eggs over easy, some bacon, and some sourdough toast."

She blinked, before nodding, "You got it."

Cassandra leaned into the chef's window, catching Mick's attention by waving her hand (as he's staring at his computer), "Hey, Mick,"

He glanced up, tapping the spacebar on his laptop. It was very early in the morning, still dark outside on the streets, so she did not particularly blame him for keeping himself occupied. The morning rush would not start for at least a few more hours, and by that time, their night shifts would have ended.

"Three over easy eggs, bacon, and sourdough toast, if you please," she gave him a sweet smile before turning back around.

"Sure thing, Ci," Mick was really the only one to call her that, but she did not really care much. He was a sweet man, with no ill intent, and he was friendly enough (often turning the laptop screen enough so she could watch with him while still standing behind the counter, but only if it was one of the shows she followed).

Cassandra returned to her book, _Frankenstein_ , shifting her weight from foot to foot, her head in her hand. It only took a few minutes for the man's order to be ready, and Cassandra was quick to bring over his plate, along with the coffee pot. At this point, she relatively knew how long it took for him to finish a cup, and if he wanted any more, he usually pointed the handle outwards.

"Here you are. Is there anything else I can get you?"

He shook his head, and dug into his food, leaving Cassandra to walk back towards the counter.

"Mick, mind making me some pancakes?" Cassandra asked, "I'll split them with you."

It was not all that hard to convince Mick to make a worker anything, even if it was not on the menu, especially when no other orders were in. She was pretty positive their boss would not mind, seeing he never really came in anyways — he owned several other businesses and as long as the diner was not losing money, he did not care, Cassandra had come to learn. Most workers exploited this loophole, but no one went overboard with it.

Mick made chocolate chip pancakes, enough for Cassandra, D.J., and himself. They all ate back in the kitchen, Cassandra only looking out into the dining area to make sure no patrons needed her attention. After they each finished all of their pancakes, Cassandra went to check on the man, who had finished his breakfast and was nursing the last of his coffee.

"It was good, thank you," he said, placing his cup back onto the table.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." Cassandra told him with a smile, grabbing his empty plate. "Anything else?"

"Just the check,"

Cassandra nodded and walked the dishes into the back, glancing over Mick's shoulder to the murder documentary he was watching. She rang up his check and dropped it off to his table, stopping at the only other table and cleaning up the mess the woman had made.

The man had grown used to the kind waitress he saw practically every time he came in. Her smiles never seemed fake, at least when they were directed at him and her co-workers. He had only seen her frustrated once, when he was on his way to the exit, and the older man at the counter kept pestering her about different orders, changing what he wanted several times before deciding he only wanted a piece of pie. Frank had to hand it to her, though, she handled it wonderfully — never once faltering, or showing the man that he was getting to her.

Cassandra returned to get the check, and as usual, he generously tipped her. She cleaned his table, as he had already left when she returned (another pattern she noticed). Either way, it was nice to know that she would be seeing him again soon.

The next few days seemed to blur together, filled with lots and lots of studying, and a lot more paper writing (and even more coffee, if she was being honest). She barely got a wink of sleep in the past seventy-two hours, all due to trying to stay on top of her summer classes and to working so much to pay for it all.

The weekend began and Cassandra had bags under her eyes, and as she was meeting Eliza and Lily for breakfast, she did her best to use her makeup to her advantage. She left her tiny apartment looking relatively well-rested, even if her eyes were burning.

Her friends saw straight through her little charade as soon as she sat down across from them, in the breakfast joint on the lower end of Hell's Kitchen.

"Cassie, you're overworking yourself," said Lily, with a frown.

Cassandra chuckled, "And I've been looking at internships for Tony Stark,"

Eliza and Lily shared a worried look.

"You really should get a full nights rest," Lily told the woman, "Every time I texted you, you were awake."

Cassandra shrugged, sipping her mocha latte (her fourth cup of the morning), "After my mid-shift, I just have to finish one assignment, and I promise I'll try and get eight hours."

"It's summer, Cass," Eliza sat back in her chair, eyeing Cassandra, noticing how completely worn out she looked, "At least try and enjoy it."

"You both are doing internships this summer, how're they going?"

Lily frowned before answering, "It's counting as credit, so there's that,"

All three girls attended Columbia, each going for a PhD, which was probably why they all got on so well. Lily was looking for her Computer Science PhD, and would be done just after she turned thirty. Eliza already had a Masters in Chemistry, and was working on her Chemical Engineering PhD, and would finish just around the same time as Lily.

Eliza nodded, "The guy I'm working with isn't too awful. I do make coffee runs though, and that's a little annoying."

Lily nodded in agreement, "As soon as I walk in, all these guys are doing is barking orders at me. All usually not from the same place — _oh_ , I want a BLT from Friedman's, and I'll take an egg sandwich from Shaw's Deli." She rolled her eyes and sipped her tea.

Cassandra frowned, "Damn, that blows."

The conversation floated to more pleasant topics, which Cassandra felt was a relief. The moments she was not focused on school or work were like mini vacations that she cherished. They parted, and Cassandra grabbed the subway uptown to work. She packed her uniform and changed in the employee bathroom in the back (which was always cleaner then the one's for the patrons).

Cassandra never really minded mid-shifts, because it began with the lunch rush and then simmered out until the dinner rush began, and she would leave soon after that started.

The lunch rush was pretty well staffed, so it all ran smoothly. Cassandra tended to the customers at the counter until Hayley came in, since she usually ran the counter (Cassandra liked to be out on the floor when she was exceptionally tired, it kept her moving and therefore, awake). Only a few patrons remained after the lunch rush, and Cassandra took the chance to ask Ivan (the current chef on duty) to make her a BLT wrap. He was quiet, and kept to himself, so he only nodded. Erin, the other chef in the kitchen (there were only two if there was a rush, along with a few extra hands), sent Cassandra an encouraging smile. Even her co-workers could tell that she was beat.

While Cassandra waited for her wrap, she walked back onto the floor and attended to a few customers, noticing Robbie cleaning a few of the tables. D.J. was late, which was not necessarily unusual, the guy had another job all the way in Midtown, as well as taking care of his little sister, so everyone working picked up the slack until he would get there. That was one thing Cassandra liked about Ace's, they looked out for each other.

Two people sat down at booth near the door, and Cassandra was quick to grab them menus. She placed them down in front of the two men, briefly glancing at the walking stick next to one of them who was adorning red-tinted glasses. It took a second before the realization smacked her right in the face.

" _Christ_ , sorry,"

The man also seemed to be waiting for her to notice, but he and his friend only chuckled at her mistake.

"I'm pretty sure we have a Braille menu," Cassandra told the man, as one of the waiters had a blind nephew who frequently came by to eat.

"It's all right, I think I'll only have a cup of coffee," he said.

His friend glanced down at the menu, "Yeah, just a coffee for now, please,"

Cassandra nodded and went to fetch the pot to pour them each a cup. She returned to the kitchen to quickly eat her BLT, and make small talk with Erin, who was eating a chicken sandwich. She thanked Ivan and went back to check on her only table.

The blind man, Matt Murdock, cocked his head slightly to the side, picking up on the smell of the BLT on her breath.

His friend, Foggy Nelson, looked up and smiled at Cassandra. "What do you recommend?"

Cassandra pursed her lips, "The BLT is really good, so is the Rueben, and honestly, the Breakfast Burger is good at any time of the day."

Foggy handed over the menu, "Breakfast Burger it is then,"

"You want the egg sunny side or hard fried?"

"However you prefer it," he smiled at her again.

Cassandra chuckled, "All right, you got it,"

"I think I'll try the BLT, in a wrap," Matt said.

"You got it."

Cassandra moved and went to the chef window, handing over the note paper she had scribbled the order on. Due to the lack of patrons, she stayed behind the counter with Hayley, flipping through her Programming textbook.

Matt could hear her reading, her heartbeat a soft thumping, her resting heart rate considerably low, her breathing slow and even.

"Eavesdropping on the gorgeous waitress?"

Matt would have rolled his eyes, "Can't really see that she is or isn't, Foggy,"

"Well, she is," Foggy sipped his coffee, "In a sort of relaxed way — her hair's up in this really messy bun, but it works."

"She's reading some sort of textbook,"

Foggy furrowed his eyebrows, "O-kay?"

Cassandra dropped off their food and before she could ask if they needed anything else, Matt spoke first.

"You in school?"

Cassandra's eyebrows met in a furrow, and Matt noticed how Foggy's heartbeat picked up, probably due to anxiety — because that was generally a forward question.

"Uh, yeah, how'd—"

Foggy jumped to his friend's defense, "I saw you reading a textbook over at the counter, was only curious, sorry."

"Oh, yeah," Cassandra laughed, "I take whatever time I can to study."

"Columbia?" Matt asked.

"Yeah, for Robotics," she never really liked to brag, "Finished my Masters for Electrical and Mechanical Engineering about two years ago, now my aim is for a Robotics PhD."

Foggy let out a low whistle and Matt grinned.

"And before you ask why I'm still working here, I guess I just grew attached," Cassandra chuckled, "I'll probably leave sometime after graduation. Did you go to Columbia?"

They both nodded, "We're lawyers, at _Nelson and Murdock_ ,"

"Well, if I ever get into any legal trouble, I know where to go," she winked. "Enjoy your food and lemme know if you gentlemen need anything else."

Foggy bit into his burger, silently processing that their waitress was some sort of genius.

"You should ask for her number," said Matt, after swallowing a bite of his BLT.

Foggy looked particularly startled by that, "And look like some kind'a fool? No thanks, Matt. This place has some good food, and I don't wanna be too embarrassed to come back."

Matt shrugged at his friend, who ended up being too nervous to ask in the end, but he vowed to Matt that he might in the future, if and when they ever came back.

Cassandra left not long into the dinner rush, wanting nothing more then a hot shower and sleep, but she needed to finish a fifteen page paper. And if she gave into sleep now, she would never get it done.


	3. Chapter 3

**Three. Coffee and Milkshakes**

For what seemed like the first time all year, Cassandra felt well rested. Her morning was lazy, being able to do her longer yoga routine, drink coffee without a rush, and even make herself French toast. After showering, she walked to her grocer and returned home, still being able to sit back and relax a bit before work.

Working the night shift did not seem as daunting as it had previously, now that she had a good eight hours rest under her belt. She knew it would be relatively dead until morning, so she brought along her textbooks and left them behind the counter.

Erin was the working chef, Mick getting a well deserved night off, and D.J. picked up an extra shift, so he was busy cleaning the dinner rush dishes in the back. Cassandra always found the quiet of the nights serene in their own way, especially if she wanted to get some reading done.

For a solid four hours, there was only one patron, a nurse by the look of his scrubs, who was on break. He needed coffee and a warm meal, which Cassandra happily supplied and he left soon after. She had class the following morning, and was generally looking forward to clocking out so she could sleep for an hour or two before getting to her 9am class.

She recognized the familiar man, she cursed herself for still not knowing his name, even under his black cap. He looked particularly beat up that night, but Cassandra greeted him with a warm smile all the same. She decided, that night, she was going to talk to this stranger — and not just in a "what can I get you?" way.

Cassandra poured him a cup of coffee, taking note to how he looked exhausted, "Getting on or just getting off?"

He looked momentarily surprised she inquired something about him, but he answered none-the-less, "Just...a bit of a break."

Cassandra nodded, "Can I get you anything else?"

He met her eyes, and ordered what Cassandra guessed what was going to be his normal. She nodded at him and went back to the counter. She returned a few minutes later with his food, and more coffee.

Before he dug in, he looked up at her and gestured over towards the counter, "Can I ask what you're readin'?"

Seemed like everyone nowadays was curious as to why the waitress was reading behind the counter. She smiled, "Nothing particularly interesting."

He picked up his coffee cup, "Humor me." He took a small sip, keeping focused on her face.

Cassandra switched which foot she was placing most of her weight on, "Just a Robotics textbook," she paused, "Boring, really—"

His eyebrows rose, "Textbook?"

"I go to Columbia," she explained, "Working on my PhD."

He blinked in surprise, letting out a small _humph_ , "Damn,"

She laughed, and Frank found it to be a nice sound, melodic in a sense. "Lemme know if I can get you anything else."

He nodded and started eating his food. He was not going to admit to her that he had stopped by the night before, but only had a coffee because she was not there to take his order. Strange, but he enjoyed the familiar face, one that _always_ offered him a kind smile. It made his heart ache, but he pushed the soppy shit aside, because he had other things to focus on. Like the unrelenting anger towards those who had murdered his family.

Cassandra stopped by his table, right on time, to pour him his third cup of coffee. They did not exchange anything else, and after he was finished his coffee, he left the money on his table and made his exit. She cleaned his table and collected the cash, with his normal tip.

Her last hour passed slowly, helping the few very early risers that walked in. She had all of her stuff ready to go, waiting for the morning crew, when a differently familiar face walked into the diner. The sun was peaking over the horizon, and even though the shift had left her exhausted, she smiled at the man.

Foggy assumed (correctly) that she would be leaving before the morning rush. He didn't really know why he woke up early to see her, and as he walked in, he realized he really did not have an excuse.

So a lame one tumbled out of his mouth at the sight of her, "I heard you have the best chocolate milkshakes."

She raised a curious eyebrow at the man, "...yeah, you want one?" She glanced back outside, the sun barely lighting up the streets.

Foggy blinked, realizing how stupid he sounded.

"If you need a caffeine fix, we have cold brew coffee — I usually add it to my milkshakes if I need a boost." she supplied, offering him a smile.

Foggy looked relieved, "Yeah, _yeah_ , that sounds perfect."

"To go?"

He did have to get to the office, help Karen with a bit of paperwork before beginning his day. "Please."

She nodded, turning and getting Erin's attention. She placed an order for two cold brew chocolate milkshakes, deciding that she wanted one as well. She would probably freeze it when she got home and then drink it on her way to class.

"Here you are," said Cassandra, sliding the to-go cup over the counter towards Foggy, eyes flickering up to the opening door, the morning staff coming in.

"Franklin," he supplied, "Call me Foggy."

Cassandra found the nickname curious, but did not question it. "Cassandra, most call me Cass,"

Foggy nodded, sipping the milkshake, eyes going wide. "Damn, this was a good idea."

Cassandra giggled, nodding. "Well, I don't know about you, Foggy, but I've got to hit the road."

"Lemme walk you out," he offered hopefully.

"Sure, give me a moment."

Cassandra disappeared into the back, discarding her apron into her locker and grabbing her purse. She walked back out, grabbing her books.

"Have a good morning, lovelies!" she told the morning crew, with a wave.

There was a chorus of "You too, Cass!" before she and Foggy make their exit. The morning commuters have just begun to enter the streets, but it was still mostly quiet.

Foggy and Cassandra walked in mostly silence, towards where she was going to grab the subway. Foggy needed to be headed in the opposite direction, but _fuck it_ , he woke up early and he was with a pretty girl.

"What're your plans after Columbia?" Foggy asked, sipping at the milkshake, glancing at her beside him.

She gave a sheepish smile, "Maybe it's a bit ambitious, but the goal is to work with Tony Stark."

Foggy's eyebrows shot up, " _Shit_ , really?"

Cassandra nodded eagerly, "Yeah, finishing my PhD early will hopefully stand out — and I'm already looking at internships since I'm almost done."

He pursed his lips, glancing over the morning traffic, " _Wow_."

Cassandra smiled bashfully at Foggy — sure, he was cute. But she was not entirely looking for a relationship until she was finished with college; she needed all of her focus on getting her PhD. Perhaps if Foggy was willing to wait until then, then well, maybe there could be something. However, she could just be overthinking the whole thing and he was just being friendly.

"Here's my stop," she said, glancing up the stairs to the main door to the mini apartment complex. She was surprised Foggy walked the whole way with her.

Foggy glanced up at the door, before smiling at her. "Thanks for the milkshake,"

"Kind'a my job," she chuckled.

"Well, soon, you'll be working with Tony fucking Stark and then _I'll_ be getting _you_ milkshakes."

"Here, lemme see your phone,"

He probably should have questioned it, but he handed it over. She added her number.

"There, in case I get into _legal_ trouble, you'll know who's calling." It was lame, she admitted to herself, handing him his phone back, because she did not even have _his_ number, but maybe it would give him the excuse to call her. If he wanted, that is. It put the ball in his court, and that was how Cassandra liked things — she could be shit at decision making sometimes.

He looked surprised, but it washed away when he grinned, "Yeah, I think I'd remember your voice," Foggy wanted to hit himself in that moment.

Cassandra laughed anyways, not at him, he noticed. "Have a good morning, Foggy,"

"You too, Cass,"

She moved up the stoop and unlocked the door, turning to wave at Foggy before closing the door. He waited a few moments before he first pumped the air, adding a quiet, "Woo!"

Cassandra moved up the stairs a few flights, to get to her apartment. She put her milkshake into the freezer and then found her bed, setting her alarm, and then falling asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

_After this all the nitty-gritty will begin, and also a lot more Frank content (woo!)_

* * *

 **Four. Pleasantries**

The city was always bustling, busy and bursting with life. It could be a dirty, corrupt place, but also one of the most breathtaking. People in the city came off harsh and mean, but Cassandra could see passed all of that — they were hardworking and frankly, were generally pretty helpful. After moving to the city for college, it took a few weeks until Cassandra fell into the pace of life around the city. Walk too slow, and everyone who walked passed you would be annoyed, walk too fast and you were a bitch. She followed the pace, crossed the street even when the sign to cross was red.

Cassandra had seen some of the worst things in the city, from the obvious homeless problem to the fact that crimes were committed daily, during all hours of the day. But the blare of sirens became more white noise Cassandra grew accustomed to.

Despite all the shit the city could stir up, Cassandra always tried to see the best in everyone and everything. Perhaps, that would be her downfall.

* * *

The sky was painted in brilliant golds and pinks, swirled with clouds, as the sun rose over the horizon. It was one of the peaceful Sunday mornings, in Cassandra's opinion, despite the loud morning traffic. She easily would have preferred staying home, waking up to the sun through her window, but money needed to be made. So she hustled her way to work.

She was greeted warmly by the exhausted night crew, and she grabbed a cup of coffee before getting to work. The morning rush had begun, and Cassandra let herself fall into the routine. It kept her focused and busy, the time flying by — the early morning patrons filtered out slowly, being replaced by the patrons seeking brunch with friends and family. Normal Sunday stuff.

Frank Castle sat himself down at the counter, seeing how busy it was. But this would be, perhaps, the last time he would see the kind waitress. He had located those involved in the murder of his family, and that night he was going to put all the rage into action. He knew he would be able to finish what they started, but either he would eventually be killed or his identity would be discovered and he would be forced to run or be sent to prison. No matter how it went down, he doubted he would see her again, and despite it all, he just wanted to see her smile one last time.

Cassandra stepped behind the counter to grab her coffee and take a breather. She was waiting on a few orders, and she had just sat down a family and was waiting on their decision. She recognized the man as soon as she saw him, and she grinned at him.

"Hey," she greeted, taking a few steps down the counter to come face-to-face with him.

He smiled in greeting, and before he could mention anything, she already poured him a cup of coffee. He didn't have any bruises or cuts on his face, and she found this oddly relieving. Whatever he was into, perhaps he had made he way out of it.

"Can I get you your usual?" she asked, a single eyebrow raised.

"Please, yeah,"

She turned, putting her head through the kitchen window, catching Mick's attention. She smiled in greeting before reciting the man's order, Mick giving a mock salute, making Cassandra laugh. She turned her attention back to the man, tapping her fingers on her coffee mug, eyes flickering back over towards the door.

Frank did not really know what to say to her, if he should really say anything at all. He was sure, however, that his absence would not affect her in any fashion. She had too many other things to worry about, and he certainly was not going to add himself to the list. It was going to be like any other day for her, and he was not going to change that fact.

"How's your day been?" Cassandra found herself asking, staring down at her coffee.

Frank looking up from his cup in surprise, but he supposed she was only trying to be polite while she waited for his food to be done (as there weren't really any other customers requiring her attention).

"It's...uh...been...day-ish."

Cassandra laughed, "Day-ish?"

Frank smiled bashfully down at his mug, before nodding at her.

"Well, I guess it's been day-ish for me too," she was still smiling.

"Order up!" called Mick, placing the food in the window.

Cassandra turned to pick up the food, before placing it in front of Frank, "Lemme know if you need anything else."

Frank nodded in appreciation, digging into his food. This was probably the only good thing he was going to eat today, because that night, everything was going to change.

* * *

The shift ended, all her interest leaving as soon as that mysterious man had. Cassandra did not really want to be pushy, and ruin the very minimal banter they had by asking for a name or anything other than pleasantries. Her phone buzzed in her hand, a long sigh escaping her nose. It was a message from Foggy, asking if she wanted to meet up for drinks, but all she wanted was to lay face down in her bed.

 _Really sorry!_ she texted, _But I've got a big mess of studying to do. Raincheck?_

Foggy was very nice about it, telling her he was usually free after work, and she promised to get back to him. She barely touched any of the work she had to do before she passed out on her couch.

The morning was hazy, at best. Cassandra barely made herself toast before rushing to catch a subway to make her way to class. She had a few text messages from Eliza and Lily, both wondering how she was doing. She sent them each a message, alerting them both that she was doing fine.

Her school day passed in the mid-summer heat, and quite miserably, if she was being honest. She loved learning, but the buildings were lacking on the air conditioning that particular day, and the entire student (and faculty) body were suffering for it. She was in a tank top and shorts, and still she felt like she was wearing a sweater. There was not even a breeze to ease the heat.

She had been assigned a project, that would largely affect her final grade, and she knew she would be logging in crazy hours to finish it. Although, she thoroughly enjoyed building and tinkering, she was not particularly overjoyed to be adding all these extra hours on top of her already crazy schedule. There was also a buzz in the classroom of a bunch of mobsters being murdered, but she did not really care enough to pay attention.

After getting off the stuffy, uncomfortably hot subway, she ran into a small little sandwich shop. She was not going to have any time to make anything while she sketched up prototypes. And the sandwich place was right on her way home, anyways.

Whilst running in, she ran straight into someone, the books in her hands dropping to the ground. She groaned, barely even glancing at the man she had run into, kneeling down to get her things. He knelt down to help her.

"Sorry," she said, huffing out a sigh, glancing at him.

"No harm, no foul," he smiled.

He had extremely chiseled features, with green eyes, and a stubbled jaw. She was not really the girl to swoon, especially in that heat, but she admitted silently to herself that he was attractive.

He handed over the last of her things, "I'm sorry too, should've been paying more attention."

"No, no. I'm in a rush, 's all. I'm sorry."

"You know, for a detective, I should really be on my toes." he chuckled.

She shook her head, but she was smiling, standing. "Well, sorry, _Detective_."

He stood, looking down at her, chuckling, "Det. Vincent Trent."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Cassandra Nash, but I've really gotta get a move on." she said, brushing passed him, moving towards the counter to place her order.

"What's the big rush about?"

"Robotics project, big part of my grade. I'll have my PhD by the end of next semester if I get this, and then my dissertation right."

He let out a whistle, "Congrats, Doc,"

She rolled her eyes, "I'm not a doctor yet."

"But you will be!"

"Hopefully,"

He nodded, waving, "See you around, and good luck on that project!"

"Thank you," she called after him as he exited.

After getting her sandwich, she quickly made her way to her apartment and started drawing up some options, playing around with a few 3D models on her computer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Five. Not A Nurse**

Buried in her work, Cassandra barely even noticed the blood being spilled onto the streets of Hell's Kitchen, nor did she notice the bodies of mobsters being piled up. She had holed herself up in one of the school labs, working on her project.

Her phone rang from the desk across the room, and she decided to take a break from her project. Foggy's name flashed across her screen and she picked it up. They had went out once together — just for drinks — after Cassandra's friends harassed her into going, claiming she was working _way too_ hard.

"Hello?" she greeted evenly, running a hand over her forehead to push adds stray strands of hair away of her eyes.

 _"Hey, Cass,"_ the man sounded slightly out-of-breath, _"you've been at school for awhile now to become a doctor—"_

"In Robotics, but yeah, go on."

 _"But I'm sure you've picked up a few things?"_

"I don't think I picked up a medical degree in my spare time, Foggy,"

 _"Right! Of course, but maybe you've taken first aid classes or I don't know..."_

As her mother was an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., and practically an on-call doctor to certain missions, she _did_ know a few things. Add the fact that her father was a doctor — who now taught at a medical school in Florida — she had been put through first aid classes in her youth.

"What's this all about, Foggy? Are you okay?"

 _"Look, I don't really know who else to call, I was really hoping you maybe had some type of medical experience."_

"I mean, something like that." she told Foggy, sitting down on top of the desk.

Foggy sighed on the other end, _"Can you do me a big favor, Cass? Like I'll totally owe you one type of favor?"_

She pursed her lips, eyes flickering over towards her lab table where she had been working. "Sure, Foggy. How can I help?"

He breathed out in relief, _"Matt, I think he fell down the stairs—"_ a lie, but she didn't need to know that, _"—he hit his head really hard, he's unconscious, I didn't know really who to call."_

"Why don't you take him to the hospital? Or call someone, I don't know, who's a doctor?"

 _"I don't happen to know the phone numbers of any doctor, or nurse for that matter, and he_ _hates_ _hospitals."_

"I'm sure he'll hate brain damage more, but I'll be right over. Text me his address."

 _"Thank you so much, Cassandra,"_ Foggy said, fully meaning it. _"I really owe you one."_

She chuckled, "You really do. I'll see you in a bit."

Cassandra hung up and gathered her things, logging out of the lab and making her exit. Foggy sent over Matt's address, and Cassandra grabbed the first aid kit she kept at her apartment and made her way to the apartment.

She knocked twice before Foggy opened the door, face flushing with relief. He invited her in, and she took quick note that the apartment was _very_ nice. Spacious, something she was not very used to.

Matt was still passed out on his couch when she entered, blood covering part of his face, matting in his hair. He was completely shirtless too, and she wondered briefly how a blind man had gotten so ripped, but she brushed the thoughts away. She was here to help, and although Matt couldn't see to begin with, she didn't want to be rude and stare. She noticed that his body was littered with old injuries and scars. Cassandra frowned, setting her purse down on the coffee table.

"Foggy? Can you get me a wash cloth and a bowl of warm water?"

He didn't answer, instead he just got what she had asked for. His best friend was the Devil of Hell's Kitchen and getting beat up definitely came with the territory. He made sure to hide the costume in Matt's room; even though he really wanted to trash the thing. Maybe he wouldn't be pleased when he woke to find someone who was basically a stranger to him in his apartment. But Foggy needed help and bringing Matt to the hospital wasn't really an option.

Cassandra started simply by cleaning the blood off of the man, looking to find a source. She felt anxious, mostly because she didn't have the adequate training to actually help the man in front of her, but she knew a few things and she was really hoping it was enough. She had dealt with minor injuries from her time in robotics and engineering labs, mostly just people accidentally cutting themselves on mental or some of the equipment. Most of those were patch jobs, occasionally she told whoever it was that they would probably need stitches and to head to the nearest ER.

When Matt stirred, he immediately went to reach for his head — his senses were dulled and he could tell instantly. But the person beside him certainly wasn't Foggy, but he was in his apartment. He took a moment, absorbing any input his senses were picking up — they smelled like metal work, like when someone first lights a match, but underneath they smelled like a lavender body lotion. The same one he had sensed on the waitress.

"Hey, hey, careful, you hit your head pretty hard." she told him gently, kneeling beside him, taking his hand and moving it away from his injury.

"Foggy, did you tell her?"

"Tell me what?"

Foggy turned from the sink to the two in the living room. "That you fell down the stairs? Yeah, I did."

Matt let out a sigh of relief. Cassandra took notice to that, but didn't mention it. It wasn't her business.

She dabbed the washcloth back to his head, using her fingers to try to part his hair away from the gash. It didn't look like anything serious, the blood certainly said differently, but she also could rule out any damage or fracture.

"How do you feel? Do you know who you are? Where you are?" She wanted to double check to see if he had a concussion, even though she was sure he probably had one.

He waved off her questions, "I didn't know you were a doctor."

"I'm not, but I know a few things." She shrugged, "I told Foggy to get you to a hospital, but it seems you hate them."

Matt only nodded in response, trying to concentrate on her heartbeat, the only soothing thing he could find in that moment. His head was throbbing in pain, making his senses dull one moment and slightly too much the next. He tried to appear like he was fine.

"Must've been some fall," Cassandra tried, "and here I thought you were the most well adapted blind person that I've ever met."

Matt chuckled, "You know a lot of blind people?"

"Other than you? Only one." She reached into the first aid kit to grab a butterfly bandage small enough to fit on his wound. "If you start to feel any worse, you really should call an ambulance."

"Why? I've got a perfectly good nurse right here."

Cassandra rolled her eyes with a smile, not noticing how Foggy scoffed in the kitchen.

"Hey, Foggy, do you mind getting me some aspirin?"

"Sure you don't need an x-ray or a psych eval?"

Cassandra raised her eyebrows at the sudden tension in the room, her eyes flickering over to Foggy getting Matt a glass of water to Matt trying to readjust himself on the couch.

"Aspirin's fine, buddy,"

Cassandra moved her hand through Matt's hair again, her focus trained on the wound and making sure none of his hair was sticking to the adhesive. She let out a long sigh.

"Maybe I should go to med school, Foggy," she said, removing her hand. "I have a clumsy blind man who will probably need my help again."

The tension paused briefly when the two men chuckled, Foggy bringing over a glass of water and the aspirin. Matt took both thankfully.

Cassandra stood, "Well, keep an eye on him, Foggy. If he gets worse, please do call an ambulance."

Foggy quirked an eyebrow, "And if I call you?"

Cassandra frowned slightly, "Well, I'm not going to ignore it, but I'm _not_ an MD."

"Could'a fooled me," said Matt from beside her.

Cassandra rolled her eyes again, "I cleaned your wound and patched it — hardly doctor worthy."

Foggy shrugged, "Better than nothing."

She made a face of agreement, before letting out a long sigh, "Well, then pass along my number then. But I'm not on call 24/7, I do have other things to do."

"Sure thing, Cass," Foggy told her with a smile, "Thank you, again, I really do owe you one."

"And I plan on cashing in on that favor eventually." She told him seriously, with a hint of her genuine kind smile.

"Thank you, Cassandra," Matt said from the couch, his eyes staring somewhere off to her left. "I think I'll owe you one, too,"

"Just be more careful, okay?"

He nodded with a smile, "I'll do my best."

"Hope you feel better soon, Matt," she said, moving towards the door, Foggy following after her.

When she turned to give Matt one final look, to try and ease her worrying for his wellbeing, she caught sight of some sort of dark red suit at the edge of the door to what she assumed was Matt's room. Curious, because it was not a normal suit, but it was just another thing she shrugged off.

Foggy thanked her again before she left before bidding her farewell, and then she was heading back towards the university. She still did have work that needed to be done.


End file.
